Of Hearts and Minds
by PerfectMisfit
Summary: Set after the Atlantis Complex; Artemis Fowl stares into the face of mental illness and for the first time wonders if there is an enemy he cannot face.


**I don't own Artemis Fowl**

**Of Hearts and Minds**

_PerfectMisfit _

. . .

The first bout of nausea hit him thickly like a violent wave and wrapped itself around him lke a blanket. It left him sprawled out, on the cold floor, shivering under his thin shirt_. _It sent goosebumps crawling up and down his pale, blemished skin_. _He didn't even know how he'd managed to get to the restroom in the first place - as of then, his legs seemed much too weak to support his bulk, much less carry him at top speed across the room_. _He reeled for about a moment and shakily rose to his feet, staggering and successfully fighting the bile that climbed up his throat by pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.

He rose shakily, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in his dry throat. Butler was probably dozing lightly beside his bed.

There was no God.

No cure.

No slavation.

No nothing; every human had some point where they could no longer tolerate the pressure that weighed them down and he had reached that point. He was fractured and there was no going around it or avoiding it. . .another two steps led him to the floor, his cheek pressed against the chilly tiles. It was a matter of moment before the world around him - the world he knew - began rippling and eventually faded away, only to be replaced by hallucinations.

It was here, it was there - it was everywhere - it was to his left, to his right above him and below him. Mother's face, Father's face, Holly's face, Butler's, Juliet's, even Myles' and Beckett's faces all painted with identical expressions of concern which melted away to show anger and irritation; it provoked guilt within him and for a split second, he wished he could go back to times when he didn't care about hurting other people. Just for a split second. After that, his mind would send him nasty little messages, telling him that he couldn't trust anybody; not even darling little Beckett who could barely speak yet and had quite a penchant for malapropisms. Everything was fake, everything was a lie - everything was as non-existant as a dream or his imagination.

And when the paranoia and hysterics died down and Artemis would find himself slowly trusting, the fours - deadly, venomous and vengeful - would march into the corners of his vision, brandishing metaphorical pitchforks at him, and one again Artemis would fall into a cycle of despair and would pray profusely for the safety of the fives. The fives were pure, rejuvenating, safe, clean. Four conjured images of death and decay, of hopelessness and darkness; the number alone haunted him to the extent where he could no longer _refer _to it as four. It was one less than five.

Then Orion would appear - silly and air-headed as usual - and chase those blasted fours away, much to Artemis' relief. He was only almost grateful to Orion for being able to do that - almost, only; he would never find it in himself to completely appreciate the half-wit's unappealing tendency to spout out romantic lines to 'the fair maiden who had captured his shattered heart' or suggestions for battles to 'the goodly beast'. But Orion ws as transient as the fours and after a few verses of claptrap were spoken, Orion would vanish (and Artemis would be wholeheartedly grateful to see the temporary end of Orion; his alter ego had an uncanny ability to detroy his real-life relationships). And once Orion was sent to the deepest recesses of his mind, those menacing four would reappear and Artemis would grasp for the fives, begging them to somehow take the fours away.

. . .and the fives would, of course, drag those evil fours away. Five was a good number, unlike it's predecessor.

Then Orion would resurface, as soon as the hissing fours were unceremonsiouly sent out of his mind, and converse with _his_ friends, _his_ parents, _his_ bodyguard while Artemis remained trapped in the confines of his mental office. It was impossible, for Artemis, to believe that he and Oiron shared the same, deluded, damaged mind. There were similarities between himself and Orion and there were differences as well; he and Orion were mirror images - similar in appearance but with reversed traits. He and Orion shared the same, dark, sleek hair and the same mismatched eyes but Artemis could see the accumulation of laugh lines around Orion's similing eyes and a lack of streaks of grey at Orion's temples. Orion was stubborn and perserverant - like Artemis - but jovial and carefree, unlike Artemis.

And finally, when everything, _everything_ was gone (courtesy of a cocktail of drugs administered by Dr. Argon, who in Artemis' humble opinion was a dunderhead) and he could think clearly and rationally again, he would feel ashamed and agitated.

He had succumbed to mental illness.

He had lost everything he valued.

He had lost everything the Fowl family stood for.

He had become illogical and irrational, he had begun to rely on the safety of fantasy and feared phenomena that would make children in _reception _laugh at him.

He had become everything he once laughed at.

He had become everything he once pitied.

Even his mother couldn't have been _this _delusional.

_Fallen._

_Fallen._

_Fallen._

It was all so frustrating and when he thought about it, a surge of self-pity and shame coursed through him. There had never been an adversary too challenging or too great for Artemis Fowl to face and with every passing day, the probability that the Atlantis Complex would be the adversary to break that record grew higher. It made him wish for someone to see those cunning fours or those things that supposedly weren't there - then he could fool himself into believing he wasn't as crazed as he believed he was. Or as others perceived him to be. Then, there would be someone else who understood how tiresome, how agitating, how downright frightening the Atlantis Complex was. What if it never left him? If it plagued him for the rest of his life? The Atlantis Complex required time, patientce and willingness to overcome and the prospect of there not being a shortcut unnerved Artemis.

A sharp bolt of pain stabbed his left temple as he felt himself being shaken awake. He blinked his eyes open blearily and a set of hands placed themselves on his shoulders, steadying him as he scrambled to his feet. They draped themselves over his shoulders and gently guided him into a bed. They pulled the covers up to his chin and gently brushed away a few strands of hair from his forehead. They were too big to be Holly's and not muscular or calloused enough to be Butler's.

They had to be Juliet's.

"Are you okay, Arty?" Four words, four words, four words. . .the question itself didn't register in Artemis' mind; only the fact that it had four words shone brightly in front of him. He shot up, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as a long string of sadistically-similing fours danced in front of him, leering at him and threatning him.

"One less than five words - would it kill you to add another one. . .please, Juliet?" He'd added the last two words just to get a total of fifteen words.

"Uh, are you feeling alright Artemis?" Juliet repeated her question, counting the number of words she was saying mentally. Did 'uh' count as a word? It probably didn't. She didn't wait for Artemis to respond. "You know, you almost gave us a heart attack, Arty. We were really worried, especially Dom."

Sixteen words.

Sixteen words.

Sixteen words.

Apparently Juliet hadn't noticed that the number of words in her last sentence was a mutliple of one less than five. Artemis groaned and tried to ignore the rows of fours that stomped away in front of him, laughing cruelly at him (and failed miserably). Juliet regarded him with concern and reached out to touch his forehead. Artemis hastily batted her hand away, shivering as the fours surrounded him and inched closer with every passing second.

"Fours, fours, God, they're - they're everywhere. . ." Juliet gave him one of those sad smiles and pushed him back against the pillows; she whispered something about going to sleep, but Artemis hardly cared about what she had to say. He let his eyelids converge over his eyes and soon, as darkness tipped it's hat, the fours retreated.

Maybe tomorrow he would wake up and not accuse a number of bringing potential death.

**This is one of my. . .terrible pieces. Anyway, reviews and concrit are more than welcome~ I ended up having to write this four times because FF wouldn't save it and I had to re-type it. The first version was a lot better than this. I think Artemis is IC (though not very much so, I'm aware). As for Juliet. . .erm, yeah, she's OOC.**


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